tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54552773889006379282019-03-17T04:24:27.512-04:00OnFictionKeith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.comBlogger660125onfictionhttps://feedburner.google.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-7851200716030914582019-02-15T10:40:00.000-05:002019-02-15T10:47:04.650-05:00People who read books live longer<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o3z4HDGxlKo/XGbdAGTK11I/AAAAAAAAIL0/q6ukJk0R4QoalkV3hEE8g_AHqrPUXmDvgCLcBGAs/s1600/Shakespeare%2B%2526%2BCo%2BBookshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="504" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o3z4HDGxlKo/XGbdAGTK11I/AAAAAAAAIL0/q6ukJk0R4QoalkV3hEE8g_AHqrPUXmDvgCLcBGAs/s320/Shakespeare%2B%2526%2BCo%2BBookshop.jpg" width="228" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">Avni Bavishi, Martin Slade, and Becca Levy write in the abstract of their paper of 2016: “</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">This study examined whether those who read books have a survival advantage over those who do not read books and over those who read other types of materials.” The authors&nbsp;</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">conducted a 12-year follow-up in a Health and Retirement Study; 3635 people reported on habits of reading books, magazines, and newspapers. Information was also gathered about participants' age, sex, race, education, health care, wealth, marital status and depression.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">As compared with people those who did not do so, people who read books lived 23 months longer.&nbsp;</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">The difference remained substantial even when factors such as education, wealth, and so on, had been subtracted out. The researchers had not been able to include a measure of cognitive ability, such as IQ.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">In a series of studies, Stanovich and colleagues (e.g. Stanovich et al., 1995) have found that the amount people read predicts cognitive outcomes such as vocabulary, skills of reasoning, and general knowledge, even when such factors as IQ and level of education have been subtracted out. In a follow-up study,&nbsp;</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">Mar and Rain (2015) found that by far the largest effect on such outcomes came from the reading of fiction.&nbsp;</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">A study by the National Endowment for the Arts indicated that 87% of book readers read fiction.&nbsp;</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">Putting these studies together one may infer that it is likely that it was the reading of books of fiction that had the largest effect on longevity for the people in the study by Bavishi et al.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">Bavishi, A., Slade, M. D., &amp; Levy, B. R. (2016). A chapter a day: Association of book reading with longevity.&nbsp;<i>Social Science and Medicine, 164</i>, 44-48.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">Mar, R. A., &amp; Rain, M. (2015). Narrative fiction and expository nonfiction differentially predict verbal ability.&nbsp;<i>Scientific Studies of Reading, 19</i>, 419-433.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">National&nbsp;Endowment&nbsp;for&nbsp;the&nbsp;Arts. (2009). Reading on the rise: A new chapter in American literacy. Washington, DC: National Endowment for the Arts.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">Stanovich, K. E., West, R. F., &amp; Harrison, M. R. (1995). Knowledge growth and maintenance across the life span: The role of print exposure.&nbsp;<i>Developmental Psychology, 31</i>, 811-826.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt;">Image: Postcard from Shakespeare and Company Bookshop, in Paris, illustration by Miles Hyman.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/edAe7I25Gvo" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com3http://www.onfiction.ca/2019/02/people-who-read-books-live-longer.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-11594274281607399462019-02-07T09:27:00.002-05:002019-02-07T09:27:46.639-05:00Marguerite Duras The Lover<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vgtN5fE4mr0/XFw_sYn2AyI/AAAAAAAAIJ4/Y2uqwzm8jHIISpF111jZ7DORH-Q3hIVZwCLcBGAs/s1600/Duras%2BLover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="641" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vgtN5fE4mr0/XFw_sYn2AyI/AAAAAAAAIJ4/Y2uqwzm8jHIISpF111jZ7DORH-Q3hIVZwCLcBGAs/s200/Duras%2BLover.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>Marguerite Duras’s novel,&nbsp;<i>The Lover,&nbsp;</i>is able to reach, in a paragraph, to the heart of who we are, in ourselves and with other people. How can a book reach us, in this kind of way? Here are four ideas.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">A first idea was suggested by John Ruskin and Marcel Proust. It is that books are friends. But when we take up with a book rather than with a person, we don’t have to worry: “What did she or he think of me?” Whereas, in ordinary life, the people we meet depend on circumstance, with books we are not restricted. We can choose from across time, and from all over the world. The idea of book-as-friend is a metaphor. But it’s more than that. A novel or short story offers a kind of invitation, in the way that a person might. So a book might say: “Please engage with me, maybe just for a short time.“ And, in the same way as some people affront us with something like: “Look at me, I’m far better than you,” so a book may issue a challenge. Other books, like some people, affect indifference.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">A second idea is that we human beings construct mental understandings of each other. Without doing so, we could not interact, could not make arrangements with each other. We can often understand fictional characters better than many people we know. Sometimes, too, we can apply that understanding to our own selves. Then we can carry this kind of improved understanding into our day-to-day lives.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">A third idea is that novels and short stories have to do with consciousness. Human consciousness is imagination, of words and images in which one aspect is what we know from our past, episodes of experience, skills, and knowledge. The second aspect is our understanding of the current social situation. The third aspect is of ongoing plans for ourselves and with others. Narrative has this very same structure: evocations of what’s remembered, circumstances and the emotions that are elicited in them, plans about what to do. A novel or short story, then, is a piece of consciousness that the author has constructed to exist on its own out there, with the possibility of it being taken up, and taken in, to become a reader’s own. With some books, though, an individual reader may not want to take in the piece of consciousness.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">A fourth idea concerns resonance: whether a story evokes aspects of one’s idiosyncratic past, or of one’s culture, or both. When this happens, there can be a sense of recognition; we can also understand hints and nuances. But that doesn’t mean we can only successfully read about our own culture. If one could only take in books from one’s own culture, men could never enjoy writers who are women nor women enjoy writers who are men.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Marguerite Duras was born in 1914 and grew up near Saigon, in Vietnam, third child and only daughter of a married couple from France who took jobs in this French colony. Her father was a professor of mathematics in a school there, but Marguerite scarcely knew him because, soon after she was born, he became ill, moved back to France, and died there when she was five. She had two brothers: the elder four years older than her, and the younger, who was a bit developmentally delayed, two years older than her. She remembers her elder brother as cruel. He would beat up the younger brother, and terrorize his sister. He was the only one of her three children who was loved by their mother, who was also a teacher. Marguerite remembers her mother as proud that her daughter was clever, but says that her mother was hard on her, and sometimes beat her. Marguerite and the younger brother did love each other and this occurs, too, with the narrator and the younger brother of the novel. Also, as in the novel, Marguerite began an affair with a Chinese lover, who was aged 27 when she was fifteen-and-a-half. When she was 17, she went to Paris to go to the Sorbonne, starting in mathematics. Then she moved to political science, then law. In the War she was in the Resistance and became a member of the Communist Party.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><i>The Lover,&nbsp;</i>written by Duras when she was 70, is a book about a lover and a family. It’s both an autobiography and a novel in which, at a young age, the narrator finds that she can be loved. The first evocations of this are tender and moving. But in the middle of the book comes a paragraph that is shocking. It starts like this, on page 46: “I tell him to come over to me, tell him he must possess me again. He comes over.” Then we read this: “He … says he knew right away, when we were crossing the river, that I’d love love, he says he knows now that I’ll deceive him and deceive all the men I’m ever with …” Then this: “He calls me a whore, a slut, he says I’m his only love … nothing’s wasted, the waste’s covered over in the torrent, in the force of desire.” In English, the words “whore,” and “slut” have no male equivalents (perhaps it’s the same in French). What do we make of that? This calling of names is followed, on page 97, by what the narrator’s mother says, when she finds out about the affair. She accuses her daughter of “blatant prostitution,” and calls her a “little white tart.”&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">The paragraph that starts on page 46 is an indication, I think, of how the narrator feels, when she is loved by her lover … so that, at the same time, she also despises herself in a way that, during her childhood, her mother has made her feel despised. What do we make of how we can carry forward feelings of our earliest relationships into our later love-relationships?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Among reasons for the derogatory words used by the lover, and later by the mother, are that, although the narrator is French and a white person, her lover is Chinese. So, for her mother and for French society at that place and time, what the narrator does must absolutely not be done. It’s far worse than having an affair while still at school.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">The book is written in the first person, and ranges from the time in the 1930s when the narrator lived near Saigon, when she crossed the Mekong River and first met her lover, to later times, in Paris, when she has a child and when she is in the middle of World War II. Part of what makes Duras’s writing so engaging, I suggest, is that she writes in paragraphs and short sections, in the kind of way that consciousness works, thinking this, then that, sometimes coming to wonder, sometimes feeling delight, sometimes reaching no conclusion.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">The family dynamics in&nbsp;<i>The Lover&nbsp;</i>are dreadful. When a child grows up knowing that a sibling is cared about far more than they are, this tends to have a life-long negative effect. For both Marguerite herself, and for the narrator of the novel, this combines with the absence of a father, and with the experience of being hated by her elder brother. Perhaps the fact of being left alone by her husband was a factor in the mother loving her older son. This boy grows up to be repellant, a layabout, never interacting with others except to say or do something malicious, stealing from his mother to buy drugs and to gamble, so that even though the mother and the family live in poverty, he further impoverishes them. Later on, in the novel, during the war, the narrator says: “I see war time and the reign of my elder brother as one … I see the war as like him, spreading everywhere, breaking in everywhere, stealing, imprisoning ... (p.67).”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">In terms of the four ideas, this novel came to me with an invitation, as a friend. I became able to understand the character of the narrator, her lover, and to some extent her mother and her elder brother. It seemed also, to me, an engaging piece of consciousness that I wanted to take in and make my own. And, quite strongly, I experienced several kinds of resonance.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Marguerite Duras (1986)&nbsp;<i>The Lover&nbsp;</i>(translated by Barbara Bray) London: Flamingo (original publication of&nbsp;<i>L’Amant,&nbsp;</i>in France, 1984).<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Marcel Proust &amp; &nbsp;John Ruskin (2011).&nbsp;<i>On reading,&nbsp;</i>&amp;&nbsp;<i>Sesame and lilies 1: Of kings' treasuries&nbsp;</i>(translated by Damion Searls). London: Hesperus.</span><span lang="EN-US"></span><o:p></o:p></div><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/7Fc9mX7gAx8" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2019/02/marguerite-duras-lover.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-79847537483694674002019-01-23T09:42:00.001-05:002019-01-23T09:42:55.378-05:00Toni Morrison's Jazz<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E9_wH6SeOL0/XEh797ymh_I/AAAAAAAAIG0/FYk8yQD5L_w06MESE_ByPJMkIK5xax_-gCLcBGAs/s1600/Morrison%2BJazz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="223" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E9_wH6SeOL0/XEh797ymh_I/AAAAAAAAIG0/FYk8yQD5L_w06MESE_ByPJMkIK5xax_-gCLcBGAs/s320/Morrison%2BJazz.jpg" width="206" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The 1992 novel,&nbsp;<i>Jazz,</i> by Toni Morrison, is original and engaging. In&nbsp;<i>Mrs Dalloway,</i> published in 1925, Virginia Woolf accomplished a novel of inwardness. In&nbsp;<i>Jazz, </i>Toni Morrison accomplished a further step: a novel of relationship. She did this by basing her book on a form of music—jazz—in which a theme is introduced and then, as in some pieces of classical music for instance by Bach, variations are offered. In this novel, the variations suggest ways in which different people experience a certain event (which one may think of as a theme) and, with this, their relationships change.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Jazz&nbsp;</i>is a kind of love story, a mode that’s virtually a human universal. But this one is different, because it is not just a love story but a story of other kinds of relating as well. Following this novel, books in which relationship has come to the centre seem to be more frequent. So, for instance, in 2007, Katy Roiphe published&nbsp;<i>Uncommon Arrangements,&nbsp;</i>a biography not of a person but of relationships in marriage. Then came the novels of Elena Ferrante. The first,&nbsp;<i>My Brilliant Friend,&nbsp;</i>published in English in 2012, is not really about the friend as such, but about the narrator’s relationship with the friend when they were young. Then, in subsequent novels, Ferrante has written about how the relationship developed into adulthood.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Morrison states the theme of her novel at the book’s beginning. The fifty-year-old Joe is in love with an eighteen-year-old, Dorcas. At a party, he shoots her. As Morrison writes in the fourth and fifth line of the novel, he did this “just to keep the feeling going.”&nbsp;&nbsp;No-one sees the shooting, and Joe is not arrested. He is married to Violet, but they’re not much in touch with each other. At Dorcas’s funeral, Violet stabs the dead girl with a knife, and wonders how she might take on some of the characteristics of Dorcas, so that Joe will love her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Morrison’s suggestion in her novel is that being black in America gives one not just the legacy of slavery, but continuing oppression, so that achievement becomes difficult, and for many people almost impossible. But the human spirit is not suppressed. In the kind of society that has resulted, the focus has come to be on relationship. Jazz is a form of music that arose in this society, a form based on the relationships among the players, that depicts sadness (as in the blues), suffering, sometimes violence but, at the same time, progress.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">By starting with a theme, and progressing through a sequence of chord structures, the musical form of jazz is based on improvisation in which the players of different instruments, and sometimes a singer, improvise in relation to each other. This is the kind of structure that Morrison uses in her novel.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The events with which the novel starts occur at the beginning of 1926. As the narrator says, after World War I: “Armistice was seven years old when Violet disrupted the funeral” (p. 9). Both Violet and Joe had been married for many years and had come from the rural South, to live in Harlem which, in the novel, is called “The City.” They had been getting along with each other, in a way, but not so well. They had no children together and this too, becomes a theme. Both realize that they did not really choose each other. Thinking back to when they met Violet says: “from the very beginning I was a substitute. And so was he” (p. 97). It’s many years later that Joe does make a choice: he come to love Dorcas. On page 135 he says, as if he were speaking to her: “I&nbsp;<i>chose&nbsp;</i>you. Nobody gave you to me. Nobody said that’s the one for you. I picked you out … I didn’t fall in love. I rose in it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Part of the performance of jazz music involves solos by players of particular instruments. In the book this is mirrored by stories told by Violet and Joe about their early lives in the South. Later in the book other characters enter as well. They include Malvonne Edwards, from whom Joe rents a room for a few hours a week, in the building in which he lives, so that he and Dorcas can meet there to have sex. Then there is Alice Manfred, who took Dorcas on when her mother (Alice’s sister) was killed in the anti-black race riots of St Louis in 1917, in which many people died.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There’s some wonderfully lyrical writing in this novel. Here’s an example.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 1cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A colored man floats down out of the sky blowing a saxophone, and below him, in the space between two buildings, a girl talks earnestly to a man in a straw hat. He touches her lip to remove a bit of something there. Suddenly she is quiet. He tilts her chin up. They stand there. Her grip on her purse slackens and her neck makes a nice curve … Do what you please in the City. It is there to back and frame you no matter what you do… Hospitality is gold in this City. You have to be clever to figure out how to be welcoming and defensive at the same time. When to love something and when to quit (pp. 8-9).&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After Dorcas’s death, Violet comes to know and relate to both Alice Manfred and Malvonne Edwards. Then, later as well, Dorcas’s best friend Felice enters the story, as does a young man called Acton, whom all the young women want to be with. Dorcas manages to catch him, and starts to have sex with him. Joe realizes this. And that is the reason—well, one of the reasons—he shoots Dorcas. What happens, then, in the relationship between Violet and Joe? To find out, you need to read the novel.&nbsp;&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At the end of her book, Morrison adds the loveliest coda, in which the novel’s narrator speaks to the author. By means of what she says, in a Proustian way, she speaks to us, the readers, engaging us also in relationship with the novel’s characters and events, as well as with the narrator … and the author.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Elena Ferrante (2012).&nbsp;<i>My brilliant friend&nbsp;</i>(A. Goldstein, Trans.). New York: Europa Editions.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Toni Morrison (1992).&nbsp;<i>Jazz</i>. New York: Knopf. Page numbers are from the 2004 paperback edition, with a new Foreword by the author, published by Vintage International.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Katy Roiphe (2007).&nbsp;<i>Uncommon arrangements: Seven portraits of married life in London literary circles, 1910-1939</i>. New York: Virago.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Virginia Woolf (1925).&nbsp;<i>Mrs Dalloway</i>. London: Hogarth Press.</span></span><span style="font-family: Palatino;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/UA8gwwfnitc" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2019/01/toni-morrisons-jazz.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-68740712319701788422019-01-11T07:27:00.000-05:002019-01-11T07:27:00.648-05:00Research Bulletin: Do Stories Satisfy Core Human Motives?<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://pixabay.com/en/take-the-book-girls-the-study-532097/"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="132" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VsOQWlNHyLo/XDN9wAPslXI/AAAAAAAAIps/kzm3Crz68rsuP4FU-g_bHRZta3Bjy4RIwCLcBGAs/s200/blur-book-browse-256546.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Stories, and transmission of information through stories, is one of the most universal aspects of human communication. But what role does it play in our lives and how does it relate to our core motivations? In this brief theoretical article, Costabile, Shedlosky-Shoemaker, and Austin (2018) set out to demonstrate how stories promote social and psychological wellbeing by satisfying core motivations. As a starting point, the authors adopt Susan Fiske’s (2010) five core social motivations: belonging, understanding, control, self-enhancement, and trust. These are essential social needs that each person desires in order to feel complete. Costabile and her colleagues argue that stories, both autobiographical stories and entertainment narratives, satisfy all five core motivations. The article is broken up into sections for each of the core motives, and in each section empirical evidence is presented to support the relationship between stories and the core motive in question.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In conclusion, the authors propose that this article helps bring together research on narrative with more traditional social psychological research. Moreover, they believe that narrative approaches can be of use in other areas of social psychological research, such as intergroup relationships and overcoming resistance to persuasion.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><i>References</i><br /><br />Costabile, K. A., Shedlosky-Shoemaker, R., &amp; Austin, A. B. (2018). Universal stories: How narratives satisfy core motives. <i>Self and Identity</i>, <i>17</i>(4), 418-431. <br /><br />Fiske, S. T. (2010). <i>Social beings: Core motives in Social Psychology</i> (2nd ed.). New York, NY: Wiley.<br /><br />Post by Connor LaForge.<br /><br />* For a copy of the original article, please contact R. Mar (see profile for e-mail).<br /><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/95s94M-ZI94" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2019/01/research-bulletin-do-stories-satisfy.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-83259482942853529122019-01-02T14:48:00.001-05:002019-01-02T15:28:56.901-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YIdgyODXFXU/XC0Qw4A06rI/AAAAAAAAICY/H0BAnbBPqNM1kiNJ0H5zW9IcpIv6nHJFwCLcBGAs/s1600/Slimani%2BLullaby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="271" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YIdgyODXFXU/XC0Qw4A06rI/AAAAAAAAICY/H0BAnbBPqNM1kiNJ0H5zW9IcpIv6nHJFwCLcBGAs/s320/Slimani%2BLullaby.jpg" width="201" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Leïla Slimani&nbsp;<i>Chanson Douce<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: justify;">With&nbsp;</span><i style="text-align: justify;">Chanson Douce,&nbsp;</i><span style="text-align: justify;">Leïla Slimani won the Prix Goncourt in 2016. The novel has been translated into English by Sam Taylor; published in England as&nbsp;</span><i style="text-align: justify;">Lullaby&nbsp;</i><span style="text-align: justify;">in 2018, and in North America as&nbsp;</span><i style="text-align: justify;">The Perfect Nanny</i><span style="text-align: justify;">. At the end of last year, the&nbsp;</span><i style="text-align: justify;">New York Times&nbsp;</i><span style="text-align: justify;">said it was one of the ten best books of 2018. Here’s a quote, from what was said, there: “Slimani writes devastating character studies, and also raises painful themes: the forbidden desires parents project onto their nannies, racial and class tensions” (</span><i style="text-align: justify;">New York Times,&nbsp;</i><span style="text-align: justify;">Book Review Section, 5 December 2018, p. 10).</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Slimani was born into a Muslim family in 1981, and grew up in Rabat, Morocco. At the age of 17 she moved to Paris, where she lives now with her husband of ten years, who is a banker. Six years ago she got the idea for this, her second novel, from reading in&nbsp;<i>Paris Match&nbsp;</i>about a nanny in New York who killed two children who were in her care. At that time Slimani was herself starting to look for a nanny for her six-month-old son because she wanted to get back to work.</span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Throughout Slimani's childhood she was looked after by a live-in nanny, whom she remembers as strict but very affectionate. Her father was an economist and had been successful. Before she was born, for two years, he had been a Minister of the Economy in Morocco. Then, when Slimani was twelve years old, he was fired from his position as CEO of a bank, and sent to prison on charges of corruption. The family fell apart, and the nanny was let go. Slimani’s mother supported her and her two sisters by working as an otolaryngologist. A bit more than ten years later her father died, supposedly of lung-cancer. Slimani thinks he died of grief. Posthumously, he was acquitted.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><i>Lullaby&nbsp;</i>starts with a horrible jolt. Its first two-and-a-half pages are about the death of two young children whom their nanny kills. This makes it impossible for some people to read on; if you think you may be one of these, please read no further here.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">In a fundamental way, however, this killing is not what&nbsp;this novel&nbsp;is about. What it’s really about is how and why a person who is employed in an intimate position in a family as a nanny, and does absolutely everything for this family, first feels useful and very worthwhile, but then starts to experience the parents’ disdain and distrust of her and, in utmost despair, behaves in such a destructive way.&nbsp;&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">In the novel, Myriam Charfa is the mother of the two young children: Mila, a toddler, and Adam, a baby. She is married to Paul Massé. They live in Paris, in the Tenth Arrondissement (at the center of which is the Gare du Nord). In her training as a lawyer Myriam has been brilliant. Then, after being very absorbed with her babies, she starts to feel trapped, and becomes very bitter towards Paul. Then, Pascal, who had been a student whom she knew in law school, encourages Myriam to come and work with him in a firm he has just started. She is excited at the prospect. So she and her husband look for a nanny. They find Louise, who has an excellent reference from a former employer.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Louise comes to work for the&nbsp;&nbsp;family. She does everything for the children. She loves them. She looks after them in the warmest way, cares for them, plays with them affectionately. She also does everything for Myriam and Paul: tidies up, mends clothes, cooks meals, stays overnight when necessary. She could not be better. She becomes indispensable.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">On page 89 of&nbsp;<i>Lullaby,&nbsp;</i>we read that one afternoon Louise has been playing with Mila, and has put lipstick and make-up on her, painted her finger nails and toe-nails with nail varnish. The little girl loves it. When her father comes home early from work, she says&nbsp;&nbsp;<span lang="EN-US">“Look, Papa … Look what Louise did!”</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;">Then we read this:</span><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;">He had been so pleased to get home early, so happy to see his children, but now he feels sick. He has the feeling that he has walked in on something sordid or abnormal. His daughter, his little girl, looks like a transvestite, like a ruined old drag queen. He can’t believe it. He is furious, out of control. He hates Louise for having done this. Mila, his angel, his little blue dragonfly, is as ugly as a circus freak, as ridiculous as a dog dressed up for a walk by its hysterical old lady owner.</span><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;">In an interview with Lauren Collins (in the&nbsp;<i>New Yorker&nbsp;</i>on&nbsp;1&nbsp;January 2018),&nbsp;Slimani said “I wanted to take an interest in the home, which we always see as a space of softness, of protection, where we go to take shelter … It’s supposed to be a space where questions of power and domination are nonexistent. But that’s completely false!”&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;">Slimani is fascinated by how people can devote themselves fully to a particular activity. Whereas Louise devotes herself to her job as a nanny, the protagonist of Slimani’s first novel,&nbsp;<i>Dans le Jardin de l’Ogre&nbsp;</i>(In the Garden of the Ogre) to be published in English this year with the title&nbsp;<i>Adèle,&nbsp;</i>is a woman who devotes herself to sex. She wants to be wanted. Slimani said to Collins: “There are people who give themselves over to their sexuality, there are people who lose themselves in it, but, for me, sex is something very painful, very melancholy, because one sees oneself.”</span><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;">Among themes to reflect on in&nbsp;<i>Lullaby (The Perfect Nanny)&nbsp;</i>are these.</span><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;">The first is that Slimani enables us to know her protagonist, Louise, and the circumstances of her life. Of course, you might say, that’s the novelist’s job. But here it’s significant in more than the usual way.&nbsp;We read how Louise’s husband had abused her, then died, leaving her in the most terrible financial mess. She is no longer in touch with her grown-up daughter. Now she lives in a sleazy one-room apartment, and her landlord terrorizes her. She makes her job as a nanny into her whole life. So, then, we may ask ourselves: “Who are we?” “To what do we devote our selves?” And, in this life, whom do we come to know?&nbsp;We can sometimes come to understand a literary character, such as Louise, better than most actual people in our day-to-day lives. Slimani is astute at letting us readers know that Myriam and Paul have no idea who Louise is. The extent of their care for her is zero. At the same time they have her look after their children, in one of the most intimate and important relationships one can ever have.&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;">A second theme is that Louise’s care for the children of Myriam and Paul enables both of them to thrive in their careers. They both earn good incomes, but the amount they pay Louise is so little that she can scarcely afford to live. They come to think they are entitled to what she does for them, and they exploit her. In an article (on p. 69 of the&nbsp;<i>New Yorker&nbsp;</i>of 20 August 2018) Adam Gopnik wrote, “of the truth that we always resent most those to whom we owe most.” On page 130 of&nbsp;<i>Lullaby,&nbsp;</i>we read that because of the hopeless financial situation in which Louise’s former husband left her, Paul received a letter from the Income Tax people, who were trying to trace her. The letter says that Louise owes back taxes. Paul speaks to Louise in a malicious way. He says: “we are very upset by what we learned. There are certain things that cannot be tolerated.” Myriam and Paul become fed up with Louise, and think about how to fire her.&nbsp;In turn, Louise becomes despairing. She comes to think that she will no longer be able to love.&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;">A third theme is based on how Myriam Charfa is an immigrant.&nbsp;In contrast, Louise is not an immigrant, and she is white. Slimani said to Lauren Collins, that Louise is&nbsp;“a white woman doing an immigrant’s job, which is extremely demeaning.” Myriam is a non-white woman, from North Africa, as Slimani is herself. By means of these contrasts, Slimani invites us to think, perhaps in some new ways, of our relationships with people we employ. Among the issues are both social class and ethnicity. How far do we know people we employ who are from different social strata than ourselves? How far do we know people we meet who are different from us, in the work-place, or anywhere? How far do we want to?</span><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div></div></div><div style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Leïla Slimani (2018).&nbsp;<i>Lullaby&nbsp;</i>(Sam Taylor, Trans.). London: Faber &amp; Faber.&nbsp;(In North America the title of the translation is&nbsp;<i>The Perfect Nanny,&nbsp;</i>Penguin Random House<i>)</i>.</span><span style="font-family: &quot;palatino&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Palatino; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/J-ju0Ej6twA" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2019/01/leila-slimani-chanson-douce-with.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-49214250734654103152018-12-03T13:16:00.000-05:002019-01-07T11:23:44.593-05:00Research Bulletin: Stories and Race Perception<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ZaSUpGe7Ug/XAVyGaq6esI/AAAAAAAAIpE/WGzwfE71avgpyRLsI-dn53hVs-KwMCiIgCLcBGAs/s1600/adult-beach-beautiful-1028847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="133" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ZaSUpGe7Ug/XAVyGaq6esI/AAAAAAAAIpE/WGzwfE71avgpyRLsI-dn53hVs-KwMCiIgCLcBGAs/s200/adult-beach-beautiful-1028847.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The notable rise of multiracialism in Western countries has made it crucial for society to develop tools that facilitate the understanding of individuals who are different from us. One such tool is narrative fiction, which can induce story-consistent behaviour and reduce out-group mentality by challenging our underlying beliefs and assumptions. Johnson, Huffman and Jasper (2014) examined this possibility by conducting a study that examined whether reading narrative fiction could affect racial boundary perceptions (i.e., the boundary at which a mixed-race face is perceived as belonging to one race or another).<br /><br />In their first experiment, individuals were randomly assigned to either the narrative condition or the synopsis condition. In the narrative condition, the participants read an excerpt of Saffron Dreams by Shaila Abdullah, which is about a courageous Muslim woman who stands up to a series of religious attacks and racial slurs. In the synopsis condition, participants read a summary of the same excerpt that was devoid of its original narrative qualities. After exposure to either of the two conditions, all participants viewed mixed-race Arab-Caucasian faces and were asked to categorize them as mixed-race, Arab, or Causcasian. Their second experiment was very similar, but with an additional control condition in which people read a brief history of the automobile. Also different in this second study, was that all of the faces were expressing low to moderate levels of anger.<br /><br />In support of their hypotheses, for the first experiment individuals in the full narrative condition saw the two races as more similar and were more likely to perceive the faces as being mixed-race as opposed to strictly Arab or Caucasian.&nbsp; In the second experiment, participants in the full narrative condition were less likely to disproportionately categorize moderately angry faces as Arab. Based on these results, it seems that stories about race might have a positive effect on racial perception.<br /><br /><i>References</i><br /><br />Johnson, D. R., Huffman, B., &amp; Jasper, D. (2014). Changing race boundary perception by reading narrative fiction.&nbsp;<i>Basic and Applied Social Psychology</i>,&nbsp;<i>36</i>, 83-90.<br /><br />Post by Alma Rahimi<br /><br /><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --> * For a copy of the original article, please contact R. Mar (see profile for e-mail).<br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/psBh2viiycE" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2018/12/research-bulletin-stories-and-race.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-43228305266114509362018-06-06T15:06:00.000-04:002018-06-06T15:06:22.727-04:00The Lowbrow Status of Science Fiction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W_gzDUiuHPw/Wxgv-WEToDI/AAAAAAAABlA/PI7wRBFIESceAYcUZ6VEr6AWB-N1ZjbaACLcBGAs/s1600/Krithika%2BSci%2BFi%2Bpic%2Bfor%2BOnFiction%2Bpost.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="377" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W_gzDUiuHPw/Wxgv-WEToDI/AAAAAAAABlA/PI7wRBFIESceAYcUZ6VEr6AWB-N1ZjbaACLcBGAs/s200/Krithika%2BSci%2BFi%2Bpic%2Bfor%2BOnFiction%2Bpost.png" width="140" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In trying to find out what makes a piece of fiction ‘literary’, <a href="https://www.wlu.edu/english-department/faculty-and-staff/profile?ID=x224">Chris Gavaler</a> and <a href="https://www.wlu.edu/psychology-department/faculty-and-staff/profile?ID=x7819">Dan Johnson</a> of Washington and Lee University dove into papers from literary criticism and psychology that each proposed different definitions of ‘literariness’. Among the various definitions they came across, they found one that suggested that a text’s literariness might depend on how much it encouraged the reader to infer what characters are thinking or feeling (Kidd &amp; Castano, 2013), an ability known as theory-of-mind. Gavaler and Johnson seized on this idea, hypothesizing that a literary text might contain the fewer explanations of a character’s state of mind, forcing the reader to make more inferences. These researchers were also interested in how this idea might interact with genre fiction, specifically the genre of science fiction. So they devised an experiment with four conditions. Participants would read a brief passage of science fiction or a realistic story, with or without explanations of the character’s state of mind. The authors would then measure readers’ ratings of literary merit, comprehension of the text, and inferencing effort.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The researchers found that those who read a text with explanations of a character’s state of mind understood the text better and rated the text as having greater literary merit, compared to those who read texts without these explanations. This was regardless of whether the text was science fiction or not. Those who read a science fiction passage rated it as having less literary merit than did those who read a realistic passage. They also did not understand the text as well and made less of an effort to infer the character’s state of mind. This was the case whether or not the passage included explanations of the character’s state of mind.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A subsequent experiment built on this research to examine the reader’s construction of a world’s physical and social rules, as well as their efforts to understand the plot. The results were similar to those of the first experiment. Interestingly, readers of science fiction exerted more effort in understanding the world of the narrative, yet did not understand the world as well as those who had read a text that was more realistic. Those who read science fiction also put in as much effort to understand the plot as did those who read a realistic passage, yet did not understand the plot as well.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Long story short, it appears that the science fiction genre prompts a style of reading that is less attentive to characters, more attentive to the world of the narrative, and yet results in poorer overall comprehension. These experiments also show that the perception of literary merit seems to be tied to the inclusion of explanations of a character’s thoughts and feelings, and not the absence of such explanations, as the authors initially thought.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>References<br /><br /><a href="http://www.jbe-platform.com/content/journals/10.1075/ssol.7.1.04gav">Gavaler, C., &amp; Johnson, D. R. (2017). The genre effect. A science fiction (vs. realism)&nbsp;</a><br /><a href="http://www.jbe-platform.com/content/journals/10.1075/ssol.7.1.04gav">manipulation decreases inference effort, reading comprehension, and perceptions of&nbsp;</a><br /><a href="http://www.jbe-platform.com/content/journals/10.1075/ssol.7.1.04gav">literary merit. Scientific Study of Literature, 7(1), 79-108</a>. doi:10.1075/ssol.7.1.04gav<br /><br />Kidd, D. C., &amp; Castano, E. (2013). Reading literary fiction improves theory of mind. Science,<br />342, 377–380. doi: 10.1126/science.1239918<br /><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><br /></a>Post by Krithika Sukumar<br /><br />* For a copy of the original article, please contact R. Mar (see profile for e-mail).<br /><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><br /></a><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><br /><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/BoawyFf7MWA" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com1http://www.onfiction.ca/2018/06/the-lowbrow-status-of-science-fiction.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-89459961305351602322018-03-13T16:55:00.000-04:002018-03-13T16:55:25.231-04:00Extreme Music and the Processing of Anger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JgxpU-IpvS8/Wqg6Vlbtg9I/AAAAAAAABic/Fl1HYz61PDUyF89iSAIY2bqzibSEFCYNACLcBGAs/s1600/Mastodon-The_Hunter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JgxpU-IpvS8/Wqg6Vlbtg9I/AAAAAAAABic/Fl1HYz61PDUyF89iSAIY2bqzibSEFCYNACLcBGAs/s200/Mastodon-The_Hunter.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Extreme music, such as punk or heavy metal, is associated with anger and arousal due to its chaotic instrumentation, fast tempo, negative lyrical themes, and emotional vocals. Two opposing viewpoints in the literature suggest that extreme music either (1) elicits anger through arousal or (2) allows the listener to process existing anger through arousal. Sharman and Dingle (2015) set out to examine how listeners of extreme music process anger in an experimental design.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">People who enjoy listening to extreme music (N = 39) were first induced to feel angry and then assigned to one of two possible conditions, either sitting in silence or listening to extreme music of their own choice for 10 minutes. Physiological arousal was measured in each condition and self-reports of emotional state were gathered before and after the anger induction. In the music condition, the researchers found that participants had a higher mean heart rate than participants who sat in silence, suggesting that extreme music sustained the arousal created by the anger induction. This view was also supported by participants’ own reports, with 79% of participants reporting that they listen to music to fully experience anger when angry. However, self-report ratings of relaxation did not differ by condition and 69% of participants also reported listening to music to calm down when angry. These findings are consistent with the idea that listeners of extreme music use it to match their emotions and emotion-regulation goals.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There were also some interesting results outside of those related to anger. Ratings of inspiration were higher in the music condition compared to the silence condition, for example. Participants also reported a variety of positive emotional effects for music and all chose to listen to extreme music of their own accord during the music condition. For the often misunderstood genre of extreme music, these findings would seem to support a less negative and stigmatizing view of extreme music fans. This study has provided interesting insight into the emotional processes of extreme music fans and more research should be conducted on the nature of emotional processing and musical preferences.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Reference:<br /><a href="https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fnhum.2015.00272/full">Sharman, L., &amp; Dingle, G. A. (2015). Extreme metal music and anger processing.&nbsp;<i>Frontiers in Human Neuroscience</i>,&nbsp;<i>9</i>, 272.</a><br /><br />Post by Shayan Asadi.<!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --><br /><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/imAZNlaSZPg" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2018/03/extreme-music-and-processing-of-anger.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-8959587510537761222018-02-05T08:00:00.000-05:002018-02-13T14:51:22.691-05:00Can Children's Storybooks Teach Morality?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51DM5uYLhZL._SX258_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="260" height="200" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51DM5uYLhZL._SX258_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" width="159" /></a></div><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;">Although storybooks have long been used to teach moral messages to children, most research suggests that young children do not actually extract the intended meaning of these stories. However, a new paper by Walker and Lombrozo (2017) found that children may be more capable of extracting the moral from a story than previously thought. The researchers conducted two studies to see if children are better able to discern the moral of a story if they are asked questions throughout the reading process. The idea is that children need help directing their attention, so guidance from an adult may help them better comprehend the important aspects of a story.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;">To test this idea, 5 and 6 year-old children were read stories that had a moral. As the story was read, children were either asked to recall surface details (e.g., "was Jocko sad?"), asked to explain an event (e.g., "why was Jocko sad"), or were simply told the lesson (e.g., "Jocko was sad because…"). Afterwards, the children were asked what the moral of the story was, and if they could name other stories with similar moral lessons. Children who were asked to explain the events of the story were better able to extract the story's moral. In the second study, the children asked to explain the story were also better able to apply the lessons to a real life example.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;">These two studies suggest that children can extract moral lessons from stories at much earlier ages than previously thought, but that they may need a little help. A key insight is that parents may be able to aid their children by asking questions about the story that direct their attention to important plot points, such as character motivation. Although more research is necessary to understand why these kinds of questions help children, these studies highlight the importance of interactive learning and provide promising evidence that storybooks may be more educational than previously thought.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"> Walker, C. M., &amp; Lombrozo, T. (2017). Explaining the moral of the story. <i>Cognition</i>, 167, 266-281. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cognition.2016.11.007</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;">Post by Joseph Hoyda.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;">* For a copy of the original article, please contact R. Mar (see profile for e-mail).&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/0VB2s2QcyT0" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2018/02/can-childrens-storybooks-teach-morality.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-71887165419564452212018-01-22T11:05:00.001-05:002018-01-23T13:55:49.246-05:00Writing Character<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1tOEk7Swds4/WmYKcLA5wnI/AAAAAAAAAyY/CY-ZZHS-wLAvS8bC1mMe2h8dMOA17dGbwCLcBGAs/s1600/Man%2Bfor%2Bcharacter%2Bsketch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="184" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1tOEk7Swds4/WmYKcLA5wnI/AAAAAAAAAyY/CY-ZZHS-wLAvS8bC1mMe2h8dMOA17dGbwCLcBGAs/s200/Man%2Bfor%2Bcharacter%2Bsketch.jpg" width="153" /></a></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;">Imagine you are given this photograph, and asked to write a fictional character sketch of the man depicted here. This is the task that Marta Maslej, Raymond Mar, and I, gave to participants, in a study published last year. What would there be in your habits and traits that would influence what you write, and how you write it?</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;">In our study we asked 207 participants each to write a fictional character sketch of the man in this photo. We asked them, too, about their habits of writing and reading, and gave them questions about traits of personality, empathy, and engagement in fantasy. Then, to a different group of people, 144 in number, we gave the character sketches that the first group of participants had produced and asked them to rate the sketches as to how likeable, interesting, and complex, each character was.</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;">We found that habits of writing fiction, and of writing and reading poetry, were associated with producing character sketches that were rated as more interesting and complex. In terms of personality traits of Extraversion, Emotional Stability, Agreeableness, Openness, and Conscientiousness, only Openness was associated with sketches of characters who were interesting and complex. Higher levels of empathetic concern, and of engagement in fantasy, had similar effects. No habits or traits were associated with writing sketches of characters who were more likeable.</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;">We found it surprising that reading more poetry had an effect on people’s abilities to create characters who were interesting and complex, although habits of reading more prose fiction and non-fiction did not. Perhaps reading poetry involves an interest in language and emotion, which are also helpful in verbal depiction of characters. Perhaps the lack of effect from reading more prose is similar to how listening to a lot of music does not necessarily contribute much to becoming a musician.</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">Some people are drawn to writing fiction. It seems that they are more likely to be among those who seek out challenges of intellectual and aesthetic kinds (the trait of Openness), as well as being higher in empathy for others, and more likely to engage in fantasy. We can imagine that it’s people with these habits and </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">character traits who go on to become authors of novels and short stories that are published.</span></span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Maslej, M. M., Oatley, K., &amp; Mar, R. A. (2017). Creating fictional characters: The role of experience, personality, and social processes. <i>Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity, and the Arts</i>, 11, 487-499.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: times, &quot;times new roman&quot;, serif;">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><br /><style type="text/css">p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times} p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Times; min-height: 14.0px} </style><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/XnfcTSgMb0Q" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2018/01/writing-character.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-31025997199983797652017-10-09T10:46:00.000-04:002017-10-09T10:49:10.094-04:00Effects of leisure reading<style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-font-charset:78; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1791491579 18 0 131231 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Palatino; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611969 2013274202 341835776 0 403 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Palatino; mso-fareast-font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:JA;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} </style> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nc9ETn9eCoo/WduKp89G0xI/AAAAAAAAAx0/NYo0WFUPvdkYEy1xENJUSKEhHxDRTvlIgCLcBGAs/s1600/Open%2BNovel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="732" height="193" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nc9ETn9eCoo/WduKp89G0xI/AAAAAAAAAx0/NYo0WFUPvdkYEy1xENJUSKEhHxDRTvlIgCLcBGAs/s200/Open%2BNovel.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"></span><span lang="EN-US">What psychological effects are there of reading short stories and novels? By now there has been a substantial amount of research to answer this question. The consensus seems to be that reading fiction as an individual pursuit can enable people to improve their empathy and to understand others better. The method known as meta-analysis involves collecting a number of studies on an issue such as this, and statistically estimating the size of effects. In this way "seems to be" can become "is." In a study published earlier this year, Micah Mumper and Richard Gerrig conducted a meta-analysis of studies of associations of lifetime leisure reading with social cognitive measures. The main measure of lifetime reading was the modification made by Mar et al. (2006) of the Author Recognition Test, to distinguish reading of fiction from non-fiction. </span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Analyses were performed for effects on empathy with data from 22 studies. The most frequently used outcome measure was the Interpersonal Reactivity Index of Davis (1983). Analyses were also performed on data from ten studies for effects on theory-of-mind (understanding others). For these, the most frequently used outcome measure was the Mind-in-the-Eyes test of Baron-Cohen et al. (2001).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">To estimate the size of this effect, the Mumper and Gerrig aggregated results for empathy and theory of mind. The result was that an association was found for reading of fiction with empathy and theory of mind, which was small but significant. Reading non-fiction did not have this effect. At least one other meta-analysis, as yet unpublished, has been performed on experiments in which people were given different kinds of material to read, and short-term and medium term effects were measured. It comes to a similar conclusion.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Mumper and Gerrig say that although the effect is small it is important because of "the potential interpersonal and societal benefits of greater empathy and theory of mind" (p. 118).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Baron-Cohen, S., Wheelwright, S., Hill, J., Raste, Y., &amp; Plumb, I. (2001). The “Reading the Mind in the Eyes” Test Revised version: A study with normal adults, and adults with Asperger's syndrome or high-functioning autism. <i>Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry, 42</i>, 241-251.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Davis, M. H. (1983). Measuring individual differences in empathy: Evidence for a multidimensional approach. <i>Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 44</i>, 113-126.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Mumper, M. J., &amp; Gerrig, R. J. (2017). Leisure reading and social cognition: A meta-analysis. <i>Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity, and the Arts, 11</i>, 109-120.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Mar, R. A., Oatley, K., Hirsh, J., dela Paz, J., &amp; Peterson, J. B. (2006). Bookworms versus nerds: Exposure to fiction versus non-fiction, divergent associations with social ability, and the simulation of fictional social worlds. <i>Journal of Research in Personality, 40</i>, 694-712.</span></div><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --> <br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/0Yttds-uCKA" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/10/effects-of-leisure-reading.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-80848591425135023072017-07-25T11:31:00.000-04:002017-09-08T11:06:43.592-04:00In the Mind of Another<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oKsUjUowAOU/WXdh3NI9vKI/AAAAAAAAAxg/czxlGHOyBdU7k2Ri-SrLzkYPvANHaFiUQCLcBGAs/s1600/Strange%2Bweather%2Bin%2BTokyo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="437" data-original-width="292" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oKsUjUowAOU/WXdh3NI9vKI/AAAAAAAAAxg/czxlGHOyBdU7k2Ri-SrLzkYPvANHaFiUQCLcBGAs/s200/Strange%2Bweather%2Bin%2BTokyo.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><span style="text-align: justify;">One of the lovely aspects of fiction is to be able to enter other minds, and this occurs in an especially touching way when the character in whose mind one finds oneself lives in a society different from one's own.</span><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />For Western readers, a novel by the Japanese author Hiromi Kawakami has this effect. The novel is translated as Strange Weather in Tokyo. It's about a woman, Tsukiko, who at the start of the story is age 37, who works in an office. Although she has had boyfriends, they seem not to have lasted long, and she doesn't seem to have close women friends. One evening she is in a bar, near the station, and happens to see, there, a man who is perhaps in his seventies, who recognizes her. He was her teacher of Japanese in secondary school. They keep running into each other, in this bar, and they chat. She calls him Sensei, "Teacher." They don't seem to have much in common. He remembers that, at school, she wasn't very good at Japanese. She remembers, too, that she wasn't very interested in it.<br /><br />Sensei is a widower. After the meet several times in the bar, he invites her, after a good deal of sake drinking, to his home, which is nearby. Although reluctant, she goes along. The house is cluttered. It's full of things that other people would have thrown away. He gives her something to drink, and some crackers to eat.<br /><br />Then Sensei starts to read a newspaper. It's not that day's newspaper, but one that has been discarded, which he has picked up from somewhere. He seems to have forgotten that Tsukiko is there. She speaks to him, and he replies: "Would you like to read the newspaper?" he asks.<br /><br />Sensei goes into the next room and brings back some things: several old clay tea-pots that he has saved from railway take-out meals he had bought many years previously, and a collection of electric batteries that have long since lost their charge. He talks about them a bit. The chapter ends with him reciting three lines of a poem, and with him closing his eyes, nodding off, perhaps asleep. In the pale light of the moon, Tsukiko gazes at the batteries.<br /><br />An effect the book had on me is that which one is supposed to attain though mindfulness. I would read a chapter—the chapters are short—then look up, and notice what I saw. On one occasion it was a pepper pot, which had been left on a wooden table. I looked at the small glass pot, which was octagonal, and had a silver-coloured metal top, pierced with thirteen small holes in a star pattern. I noticed the relation of the pot to the table, and to the window sill, and to the top of a straight-back chair, the seat of which was under the table. I saw the relation of these objects to each other.<br /><br />Is this, I thought, a Japanese way? A way of being able to see and experience such spatial layouts and arrangements. A nineteenth-century Western way is quite different. The essayist and art critic John Ruskin, for instance, might have recommended that I look at the salt-cellar, and reflect that someone who had a training in art had drawn it, that someone else had made a model of it, someone else had arranged for it to be moulded in glass, and for the metal lid, with its holes in it, to be manufactured. Each of these people would have got up in the morning, eaten something for breakfast, gone to work, chatted with their work mates, as they made these things for us to use.<br /><br />Kawakami's book continues with Tsukiko and Sensei getting along with one another, then falling out because he likes the Giants baseball team, whereas she does not. This is followed by a period when they notice each other but refuse to talk. Then they start to talk again. They go on expeditions of several kinds. They chat, sometimes quite a bit, sometimes not much at all. As readers we are within Tsukiko's mind. It is a mind that is uncertain, thoughtful but confused, wondering, lonely. And, as one may imagine, the novel is a love story.<br /><br />Kawakami, H. (2012). <i>Strange Weather in Tokyo</i> (A. M. Powell, Trans.). London: Portobello Books.<br /><div><br /></div></div><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --> <br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/MLm7bfuUBRE" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/07/in-mind-of-another.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-50278870465017200242017-06-20T08:56:00.000-04:002017-06-20T08:56:14.809-04:00Literariness and Empathy <style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-font-charset:78; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1791491579 18 0 131231 0;} @font-face {font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-font-charset:78; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1791491579 18 0 131231 0;} @font-face {font-family:Palatino; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611969 2013274202 341835776 0 403 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Palatino; mso-fareast-font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:JA;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --></style> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-psSBvhQkvhE/WUkaIsbJ9yI/AAAAAAAAAxM/YUS8hOKe4aAoD5lBvvD-puKP_UXmcOXGwCLcBGAs/s1600/Mansfied%2BCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="891" data-original-width="563" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-psSBvhQkvhE/WUkaIsbJ9yI/AAAAAAAAAxM/YUS8hOKe4aAoD5lBvvD-puKP_UXmcOXGwCLcBGAs/s200/Mansfied%2BCover.jpg" width="126" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"></span><span lang="EN-US"></span><span lang="EN-US">Virginia Woolf said that Katherine Mansfield was the only person of whose writing she had ever felt jealous. Some of Mansfield's stories are, indeed, strikingly original. A new study by </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Anežka Kuzmičová and colleagues is an investigation of the reading one of these stories: "The fly," published in 1922, a year before Mansfield died.</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">The story is about "the boss," an elderly man who is reminded of the death of his only son, six years previously, in World War I. His son had been everything to him. In the period after his son's death, the boss had wept many times. Following the reminder, he made a demand to his office assistant that he should not be disturbed. He did this because he wanted to weep again, but no tears came. Mansfield writes: "He wasn't feeling as he wanted to feel." He noticed a fly in his inkwell, fished it out with a pen, put in on his blotting pad, and watched it go through elaborate motions to clean itself. When it had done so, the boss filled his pen, and from it let fall a drop of ink onto the fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Then, writes Mansfield, "... as if painfully, it dragged itself forward." More slowly this time, it started to clean itself again, and finally finished the task. Then the boss dripped more ink on the fly, then did so once more. The fly was dead. The boss flung the blotting paper with the sodden fly on it into the waste-paper basket, and could no longer remember what he had been thinking about before.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">"The fly" is a story with lots of imagery and foregrounding, characteristics of literary writing. Influenced by the finding of David Kidd and Emanuele Castano (2013), that reading a literary short story as compared with a popular one, improved readers' empathy and theory-of-mind, Kuzmičová and colleagues asked people to read either a direct translation of "The fly," into Norwegian, or a translation that had been rewritten by a writer of popular fiction to remove foregrounded phrases. The method used by the researchers was to ask participants to read either the literary translation or the more popularly written version, and to mark passages that they found striking and evocative. They were then asked to choose three of these passages and write of their experiences in reading them. People's writings of their experiences were then coded for expressions of empathy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">The researchers expected, with this method, to replicate the result of Kidd and Castano. Instead they found that empathetic expressions were more numerous among readers of the more popularly written story than among readers of the more literary version. No allowance was made for differences of reading difficulty between the two versions, and there is no mention of the coding being done by people who were blind to which condition the participants' experiences were from. Nevertheless the result is thought provoking, and goes against a current trend. What might it mean?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Since our research group published the finding that the more fiction people read, the better they did in a test of empathy and theory-of-mind (Mar et al., 2006), empathy has become a topic of interest in understanding effects of fiction. Kidd and Castano (2013) hypothesized that the effect is principally due not just to fiction as compared with non-fiction, but that it occurs especially with literary works. So a kind of generalization has occurred: that the main effect of literary reading is to increase people's empathy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Increased empathy may indeed occur with literary writing. Indeed this effect has been found by Emy Koopman (2016) for a literary text that included foregrounding as compared with a version from which foregrounding had been removed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">When I read Mansfield's stories, I find myself going back to read passages again, in order to think about them. This happened when I re-read "The fly." It could be that, in the study by Kuzmičová and colleagues, the popular version of "The fly" was more straightforward, more engaging for its readers, than the literary version. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Prompting empathy is not the only effect of literary writing, and foregrounding is not the only feature that makes for literariness. "The fly" seems to me to be less about empathy than about the passage of time, about regression to childhood, about the unconscious, about the human propensity, in war and in grief, to be cruel. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Kidd, D. C., &amp; Castano, E. (2013). Reading literary fiction improves theory of mind. <i>Science, 342</i>, 377-380.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Koopman, E. M. E. (2016). Effects of "literariness" on emotions and on empathy and reflection after reading. <i>Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity, and the Arts, 10</i>, 82-98. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Kuzmičová</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">, A., Mangen, A., Støle, H., &amp; Begnum, A. C. (2017). Literature and readers’ empathy: A qualitative text manipulation study. <i>Language and Literature, 26</i>, 137-152.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Mansfield, K. (1922). "The fly." In D. M. Davin (Ed.), <i>Katherine Mansfield: Selected stories</i> (pp. 353-358). Oxford: Oxford University Press (current edition 1981).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Mar, R. A., Oatley, K., Hirsh, J., dela Paz, J., &amp; Peterson, J. B. (2006). Bookworms versus nerds: Exposure to fiction versus non-fiction, divergent associations with social ability, and the simulation of fictional social worlds. <i>Journal of Research in Personality, 40</i>, 694-712.</span></div><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --> <div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/K_ko9ApF-t0" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/06/literariness-and-empathy.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-17800520687596442122017-05-15T17:17:00.000-04:002017-05-19T11:16:57.822-04:00Modes of Life<style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Arial; panose-1:2 11 6 4 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536859905 -1073711037 9 0 511 0;} @font-face {font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-font-charset:78; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1791491579 18 0 131231 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Palatino; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611969 2013274202 341835776 0 403 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Palatino; mso-fareast-font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:JA;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} </style> --&gt; <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kdriOJ_8qt4/WRoWbEscW6I/AAAAAAAAAw8/I_PGYoBSe4Qp9UJBxJ6u_LrRjnnTHP5dACEw/s1600/Lively%2BConsequences.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kdriOJ_8qt4/WRoWbEscW6I/AAAAAAAAAw8/I_PGYoBSe4Qp9UJBxJ6u_LrRjnnTHP5dACEw/s200/Lively%2BConsequences.jpg" width="125" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Literary fiction has a main concern with character. Literary characters are made up of sets of features that enable us to make mental models of them, to understand them in ways that—if we knew them in daily life—would enable us to interact with them. Character, in fiction, has aspects of the psychological traits of personality, but enhanced by influences of specific events. A less-noticed aspect might be called "modes of life." People with particular traits adapt to, or are unable to adapt to, different modes, such as being married or divorced, being a parent, being employed as a civil servant or a shop assistant, being unemployed, living here or living there. A writer who is particularly good on such modes is Penelope Lively, whose most famous book is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Moon Tiger.</i> Born in Cairo in 1933, she continues to write and, on 4 May this year, a thoughtful and engaging profile of her was published in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">New York Times</i>, Sunday Book Review Section, by Charles McGrath.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">One of Lively's interests is in how events that may seem small at the time can have large effects, and—as it were—jolt people from one mode into another. In her most recent novel, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How it all began,</i> she pushes this idea towards a certain edge. A random event occurs when one of the novel's characters, Charlotte, is mugged on a London street. We don't know about the mugger, but the event prompts changes in several other lives. Charlotte is taken to hospital and a phone-call is made to her daughter, Rose. She works for an academic, Henry, who likes being famous, and likes to mix with famous people. She deals with his correspondence and accompanies him to important events. The mugging means that Rose has to look after her mother, Charlotte, and therefore cannot accompany Henry, next day, to Manchester, to give a distinguished lecture. Another person has to be called in to accompany him: his niece, Marion. Without the presence of Rose, Henry messes up his lecture, makes an utter fool of himself. He has an idea of how to reinstate himself, but following the debacle, his life starts to unravel. Rose accepts her mother coming to stay in her house, and move about on crutches. This has a substantial effect on Rose and her husband. As to Henry's niece, Marion: because she has to escort Henry to Manchester, she isn't able to meet her lover, Jeremy. Thinking Jeremy to be in his flat, she leaves a message to tell him she can't see him. But he's not in the flat. He is at home where he lives with his wife Stella. Without thinking, he leaves his mobile phone in the pocket of a jacket he has hung on a door, while he nips out on an errand. Stella finds the phone and the message. She realizes her husband is having an affair. She throws a wobbly, and starts proceedings for a divorce.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">In an earlier novel, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Consequences,</i> Lively traces the influence of events, and the ways in which they precipitate people into different modes of life, over three generations of women. Lorna is born in privilege. As she sits on a bench in St James's Park, she sees Matt an artist, who is making drawings of ducks on the pond there. The two start going out, then get married, and go with almost no money to Somerset, to live in a tiny cottage. On the walls of its upstairs room, Matt paints murals: love scenes of Lorna and him. Matt is killed in Crete, in World War II. When she is grown up, their daughter, Molly, comes across a discarded newspaper, and happens to see an advertisement for a job, for which she applies, and is accepted: the job changes her life. Molly's daughter, Ruth, who considers her own birth to have been an accident, finds out about some of these events. She retraces the footsteps of Matt to Crete, and of him and Lorna to the Somerset cottage, where she sees the murals. This last part of the book, I found, was very moving.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">We each enter into a different mode with each kind of person with whom we interact: parent, child, employer, someone we are fond of, someone we don't like. As Erving Goffman (1961) says, with each person it's as if we pass through an invisible membrane that separates one role from another. These roles can expand into modes. An engaging aspect of Lively's work is that she concentrates on these modes in ways that enable us to reflect upon them in our own lives. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -14.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Goffman, E. (1961). “Fun in games” in <i>Encounters: Two studies in the sociology of interaction</i> (pp. 15-81). Indianapolis, IN: Bobbs-Merrill.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -14.2pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -14.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Lively, P. (1987). <i>Moon tiger</i>. London: Deutsch.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -14.2pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -14.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Lively, P. (2007). <i>Consequences</i>. Toronto: Key Porter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -14.2pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -14.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Lively, P. (2011). <i>How it all began</i>. New York: Viking.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -14.2pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -14.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Palatino; mso-fareast-language: JA;">McGrath, C. (2017, 4 May 2017). "A writer writes:" Penelope Lively's fiction defies the test of time,<i> New York Times Book Review Section</i>.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: JA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --> <br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/CtPE3Q0oQto" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/05/modes-of-life.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-43371420225600571622017-05-05T06:00:00.000-04:002017-05-05T06:00:25.183-04:00Happy Birthday to Us!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sothebys.com/content/dam/stb/lots/L08/L08120/L08120-148-lr-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.sothebys.com/content/dam/stb/lots/L08/L08120/L08120-148-lr-1.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Today marks the 9th anniversary of OnFiction!&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Just wanted to take a moment to thank all of you readers for supporting us all these years. We've managed almost 650 posts so far and hopefully you have enjoyed reading them just as much as we've enjoyed writing them. A huge thanks as well to all of our contributors!</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Looking forward and moving forward...</div><br />(Painting:&nbsp;'Miss Auras, The Red Book' by Sir John Lavery)<br /><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/TQ-x9lHe4BA" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com3http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/05/happy-birthday-to-us.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-60132628917210515142017-05-01T07:30:00.000-04:002017-05-03T09:52:23.230-04:00Research Bulletin: Role Playing Videogames and Complex Emotions Like Guilt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://assets1.ignimgs.com/thumbs/userUploaded/2017/2/9/gta41280-1486669054268_1280w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://assets1.ignimgs.com/thumbs/userUploaded/2017/2/9/gta41280-1486669054268_1280w.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Have you ever felt so caught up in a narrative experience that it had a strong emotional impact on you? A recent study by <a href="http://communication.utsa.edu/faculty/mahood">Chad Mahood</a> and <a href="http://journalism.unl.edu/michael-hanus">Michael Hanus</a> (2017) attempted to better understand this phenomenon, known as narrative transportation, and how it relates to videogames. Specifically, they wondered whether transportation into a role-playing videogame can lead to feelings of guilt, when players play an immoral character. Two major predictions were made: (1) playing an immoral character should lead to stronger feelings of guilt compared to playing a moral character, and (2) transportation should lead to stronger emotions. The researchers were also interested in whether playing an immoral character would promote more aggressive tendencies, compared to playing a moral character.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In this study, participants watched a short backstory depicting an immoral or moral character whom they then got to play after receiving instructions to imitate that character or no such instructions. Measures of emotion, transportation, aggression, and perceptions of violence were collected from participants after they played the game as this character. The researchers reported two major findings: (1) participants felt guiltiest when instructed to play as an immoral character, and (2) participants experienced feelings of guilt only if they were transported into the game. Playing as an immoral character also produced aggressive thoughts, such as reporting an inclination toward rudeness, threatening behavior, and using physical force.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The results of this study provide pioneering support for the claim that videogames can create feelings of guilt. It also supports the established connection between videogame violence and aggressive tendencies. There are, however, limitations to this study that must be considered. For example, receiving instructions on how to play a character is not how videogames are actually played. Moreover, the results reported were not large in magnitude and it is not clear to what degree they would reflect real world effects. Despite these limitations, videogames appear to have the potential to produce feelings of guilt, and this study is a useful stepping stone toward further research.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Posted by Sean Morse<br /><br /><i>References</i><br /><br />Mahood, C., &amp; Hanus, M. (2017). Role-playing video games and emotion: How transportation into the narrative mediates the relationship between immoral actions and feelings of guilt. <i>Psychology of Popular Media Culture</i>, <i>6</i>(1), 61-73. doi:10.1037/ppm0000084<br /><br />* For a copy of the original article, please contact R. Mar (see profile for e-mail).<br /><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/HyHN-QDKIaM" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/05/research-bulletin-role-playing.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-64130664598834742632017-04-10T07:00:00.000-04:002017-04-28T13:13:41.686-04:00Research Bulletin: Videogames May Enhance Cognitive Abilities, But Only For Those Who Play a Lot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://obssr.od.nih.gov/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/cartoon-of-brain-attached-to-video-game-controller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://obssr.od.nih.gov/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/cartoon-of-brain-attached-to-video-game-controller.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Studies on whether playing videogames improves cognitive abilities have often found conflicting results. <a href="https://psychology.uoregon.edu/profile/nashu/">Nash Unsworth</a> (Oregon) and his colleagues (2015) point out several methodological and statistical limitations in past studies showing that videogame players have better cognitive abilities than non-videogame players. For example, many of these studies compare the most experienced videogame players with non-videogame players, ignoring those in-between. By excluding those with moderate levels of experience, very small sample sizes are left and this can cause all kinds of problems.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">To improve on past work, Unsworth and his colleagues (2015) did two studies based on large samples, using many different cognitive measures, and examining both extreme groups (experienced versus non-gamers) and the full range of videogame experience. In Study 1, 198 participants completed various measures of cognitive abilities along with a videogame experience questionnaire. The extreme-groups analysis, which included only 47 participants, found that gamers outperformed non-gamers on many of the cognitive ability measures. These results are consistent with other studies that use this same method. However, when looking at the full range of participants, very few associations were found between videogame playing and cognitive abilities. In a second study, 466 participants completed very similar measures to those used in Study 1 and a similar result was observed: there were few associations between videogame playing and cognitive abilities.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">These studies provide important insight into the question of whether videogames can improve cognitive abilities. It may be that associations between videogame playing experience and cognitive abilities only occurs for those who play very frequently. In addition, it may be that the genre or type of videogame is important. Future research will hopefully help to clarify these issues.&nbsp;</div><br />Posted by Riana Fisher<br /><br /><i>References</i><br /><br />Unsworth, N., Redick, T. S., Mcmillan, B. D., Hambrick, D. Z., Kane, M. J., &amp; Engle, R. W. (2015). Is Playing Video Games Related to Cognitive Abilities? <i>Psychological Science</i>, <i>26</i>, 759-774. doi:10.1177/0956797615570367<br /><br />* For a copy of the original article, please contact R. Mar (see profile for e-mail).<br /><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/arzPgwHDzAo" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/04/research-bulletin-videogames-may.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-48812247656275125162017-04-03T10:54:00.002-04:002017-04-03T10:54:24.640-04:00Research Bulletin: Spoiler Alert! Not all Spoilers Reduce Enjoyment of Short Stories<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://casualaggro.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/spoiler_alert_original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://casualaggro.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/spoiler_alert_original.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Leavitt and Christenfeld (2011) led a study that analyzed whether spoiling the ending of a story would increase or decrease its enjoyment. Surprisingly, readers enjoyed short stories more when they were spoiled (i.e., given a preview of the story that gave away the ending). Recently, William H. Levine (University of Arkansas), Michelle Betzner (University of Arkansas), and Kevin S. Autry (Grand Valley State University) attempted to replicate this previous study in order to see if the results were reliable.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A total of 215 psychology students participated in their study. Participants were randomly assigned to read 1 of 3 possible short stories: (1) stories without a spoiler, (2) stories with a preceding spoiler, (3) and stories that included a spoiler of the ending mid-way through the story. Participants then reported how much they enjoyed the story. The researchers found that spoilers presented before the stories reduced enjoyment of these stories, relative to unspoiled stories. This was the exact opposite of what the past study found. Spoilers presented mid-way through a story had no effect on enjoyment.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Although this study failed to replicate the past study, it also differed in some ways from this past work. More specifically, the current researchers used different stories, different spoilers, and the study was completed on a computer instead of on paper.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In conclusion, different studies using different methods have produced conflicting findings. Some studies find that spoiling a story can increase the reader’s enjoyment while other studies have found the exact opposite. Until further research is done, we cannot conclude that spoilers increase or decrease enjoyment.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Posted by Elina Gama Fila<br /><br /><i>References</i><br /><br />Leavitt, J. D., &amp; Christenfeld, N. S. (2011). Story spoilers don’t spoil stories. <i>Psychological Science</i>, <i>22</i>, 1152–1154.<br /><br />Levine, W. H., Betzner, M., &amp; Autry, K. S. (2016). The effect of spoilers on the enjoyment of<br />short stories. <i>Discourse Processes</i>, <i>53</i>, 513–531.<br /><br />* For a copy of the original article, please contact R. Mar (see profile for e-mail).<br /><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/5r9ikyUDTVw" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com3http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/04/research-bulletin-spoiler-alert-not-all.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-70529592663124599122017-03-02T13:28:00.001-05:002017-03-02T13:28:57.491-05:00The Arts and Empathy: Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.cityofgp.com/modules/showimage.aspx?imageid=6141" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.cityofgp.com/modules/showimage.aspx?imageid=6141" height="237" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I previously wrote about my participation in a fascinating <a href="http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/01/the-arts-and-empathy.html">panel discussion regarding the arts and empathy</a>, organized by the Roots of Empathy foundation. Thanks to my fellow panelists, Cameron Bailey (Artistic Director, Toronto International Film Festival) and Martha Durbin (Chair, Board of Trustees for the Royal Ontario Museum), as well as the moderator (Mary Ito, CBC), we had a very stimulating discussion of how exposure to all formats of artistic expression might relate to empathy and understanding. The full video of this discussion can now be viewed on the <a href="http://www.rootsofempathy.org/speaker-series/">Roots of Empathy website</a>. I would be happy to elaborate or clarify any of my comments from this discussion, just post your questions below in the Comments section.</div><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/SNPB_TNEmkw" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/03/the-arts-and-empathy-update.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-60999870649240376082017-02-20T07:00:00.000-05:002017-02-24T14:31:29.781-05:00Black Box → Illuminating Experience: Beginning to Uncover How Video Game Players Transform Negative Emotions into Valued Experiences<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://b-i.forbesimg.com/insertcoin/files/2013/08/link-sad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://b-i.forbesimg.com/insertcoin/files/2013/08/link-sad.jpg" height="200" width="169" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Julia Bopp, Elisa Mekler and Klaus Opwis (University of Basel) conducted an exploratory study on video-game player experience. The authors explored emotionally moving experiences, noting how little research has been done on seemingly negative, but still valued, emotional experiences along with those characterized by mixed emotions. A total of 121 participants, of whom 23.1% were female, were recruited from various online gaming forums. Participants were asked to describe an “emotionally moving experience [they] had with a digital game” (p. 2998), and to make attributions as to its cause. They were then asked to rate the features of this experience, divided broadly into enjoyment, appreciation, emotion, and need-fulfillment.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sadness was prominent in these moving experiences, with sad emotions predicting a participant’s level of both appreciation and enjoyment of the experience. Appreciation is tied to an acknowledgement that there is some deeper meaning behind something. The researchers thus concluded that a part of players’ appreciation and enjoyment derives from feelings of sadness, as can be seen in one participant’s account of their experience: “‘Never has a video game presented the story of the hero, who sacrifices himself, this beautifully and this touching. I will never forget this moment!’” (p. 3001). These kinds of positive responses to sad situations are perhaps driven by players’ need to experience emotions.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another interesting result was the paradoxical role of loss of agency, or loss of direct control within a game. Agency was related to enjoyment and happiness, whereas loss of agency was associated with sadness. However, sadness was also a predictor of both enjoyment and appreciation. In one case of loss of agency, a participant reports having had “…to torture that guy. I really hated it and did not want to do it but the game didn’t leave the choice to me…It was really disturbing’” (p. 3002). However, Bopp and colleagues (2016) noted that for another participant, having no choice but to bury a brother makes for a highly emotional and vivid experience (p. 3003), which participants value. Thus, choosing to take away a player’s agency during a game should endeavor to strike a delicate balance between evoking just enough sadness to enhance appreciation and enjoyment, but not so much loss of control as to erode the happy affect and enjoyment borne of autonomy.</div><br />Posted by Krithika Sukumar.<br /><br />* For a copy of the original article, please contact R. Mar (see profile for e-mail).<br /><br />Bopp, J. A., Mekler, E. D., &amp; Opwis, K. (2016). Negative Emotion, Positive Experience?<br />Emotionally Moving Moments in Digital Games. <i>Proceedings of the 2016 CHI Conference on&nbsp;Human Factors in Computing Systems</i>. 2996-3006.<br /><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/-XLIagPtPjg" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/02/illuminating-experience-beginning-to.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-14744930585399565102017-02-06T12:04:00.000-05:002017-02-14T09:40:18.709-05:00Photography and Truth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RamlYiiyTlw/WJirbwcZaEI/AAAAAAAAAwo/NMqdRslmx4QV42-sERkVCZp0xK9aR6iGACEw/s1600/Girl%2Bwho%2Bwasnt%2Bthere.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RamlYiiyTlw/WJirbwcZaEI/AAAAAAAAAwo/NMqdRslmx4QV42-sERkVCZp0xK9aR6iGACEw/s200/Girl%2Bwho%2Bwasnt%2Bthere.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ferdinand von Schirach is a defence lawyer who became famous with Crime, a book of cases that are fascinating. His most recent book is a novel: <i>The Girl Who Wasn’t There</i>.<br /><br />The first third of the novel is about someone called Sebastian, who grows up without much affection, though he has fond memories of a lake near where he lived as a child. The second part of the novel is about photography, in which Sebastian becomes interested, and in which he undertakes an apprenticeship. He starts to do very well as a photographer, and is offered commissions, many of which are to take pictures of women.<br /><br />He doesn’t seem to have friends, and he is not very involved with women in a romantic way until he meets Sofia. He takes photographs of her, and after they have been seeing each other for a while she says to him, “You’re never entirely with me. There’s always only part of you here.” The chapter in which this appears ends with this sentence: “All he knew was that he would hurt her.”<br /><br />The book then moves into some sordid aspects, about why men like to look at photographs of unclothed women, although by the the end of the book one can see some of their purpose.<br /><br />The last third of the book is about Sebastian’s trial for murder, of a young woman whose body can’t be found, of whom, perhaps, he was taking photographs.<br /><br />It seems as if this novel will be a detective story (a mystery) and, indeed, the murder trial to which the book leads up seems to bear this out. But whereas the typical detective story turns out to be some version of &nbsp;“it was the butler who did it,” this one is completely different. it is about the relation of photography and certain kinds of painting to truth.<br /><br />When we see a photograph of a woman, we infer that although the picture might have been posed and touched up, that there was someone there whose visual likeness has been recorded. But what does a photograph or a painting tell you about the person? &nbsp;And what might it tell you of yourself as you look at it?<br /><br />von Schirach, Ferdinand. 2015. <i>The girl who wasn't there</i>. Translated by Anthea Bell. London: Little Brown.</div><br /><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --> <br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/P1UApkyXR4s" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/02/photography-and-truth.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-69963247834805311882017-02-06T07:00:00.000-05:002017-02-06T07:00:15.978-05:00What Traits Allow Actors to Embody Their Character? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y8dNfElj8ug/WJTgveN8MMI/AAAAAAAABVg/ykZKEAXdX7oNFB6WaqnLf5uoKEnA7V8xwCLcB/s1600/Michelle%2BOnFiction%2Bpost%2Bpicture.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y8dNfElj8ug/WJTgveN8MMI/AAAAAAAABVg/ykZKEAXdX7oNFB6WaqnLf5uoKEnA7V8xwCLcB/s200/Michelle%2BOnFiction%2Bpost%2Bpicture.png" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As you close your eyes, you begin to visualize, carry the weight, and conjure the emotion. For those who are fascinated by the ability to create seemingly real experiences from imagined ones, this particular study may catch your eye. In an attempt to gain a better understanding of how actors are able to become their character so convincingly, a group of researchers examined whether acting ability is related to traits linked to hypnotizability (<a href="http://www.ellenwinner.com/uploads/7/0/0/0/7000655/panero_et_al_actors_hypnotizability_paca2016.pdf">Panero, Goldstein, Rosenberg, Hughes, &amp; Winner, 2016</a>). This connection was drawn from the fact that in both acting exercises and hypnotic induction, individuals draw on personally-experienced events. Actors draw on their emotions and experiences and then fit those events to the character they wish to play. In a hypnotic state, individuals also draw on real-life experienced that parallel the instructions delivered. For example, if the hypnotic suggestion was for an individual’s arm to feel heavy, this individual would likely draw on a time when they truly experienced their arm feeling weighed down (Panero et al., 2016).&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;">To examine this putative link between acting abilities and hypnotizability, this study looked at different tendencies associated with hypnotizability: imaginative suggestibility, absorption, and fantasy proneness. Imaginative suggestibility is the ability to recreate an imagine situation so that it feels real. Absorption is a state of focus completely dedicated to experiencing an object (Tellegen &amp; Atkinson, 1974). And, lastly, a fantasy prone individual is someone who spends a great deal of time fantasizing and daydreaming (Merckelbach, 2004). The researchers found that actors did indeed score higher than musicians and nonartists on all three tendencies. So it seems that actors do indeed rate themselves higher in traits that have been linked to hypnotizability. This study provides important insight into the abilities actors may possess that allow them to become their character.&nbsp;</div><br />Posted by Michelle Vinitsky<br /><br />Merckelbach, H. (2004). Telling a good story: Fantasy proneness and the quality of fabricated memories.<br />Personality and Individual Differences, 37, 1371–1382. doi: 10.1016/j.paid.2004.01.007<br /><br />Panero, M. E., Goldstein, T. R., Rosenberg, R., Hughes, H., &amp; Winner, E. (2016). Do actors possess traits<br />associated with high hypnotizability? Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity, and the Arts, 10(2), 233-239. doi: 10.1037/t10470-000<br /><br />Tellegen, A., &amp; Atkinson, G. (1974). Openness to absorbing and self-altering experiences (“absorption”),<br />a trait related to hypnotic susceptibility. Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 83, 268–277. doi: 10.1037/h0036681<br /><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/HBO1uwoziJA" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/02/what-traits-allow-actors-to-embody.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-79472473538218471012017-01-26T14:15:00.002-05:002017-01-26T14:17:26.563-05:00The Arts and Empathy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sd44.ca/school/capilano/ProgramsServices/ROE/PublishingImages/Roots-of-Empathy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.sd44.ca/school/capilano/ProgramsServices/ROE/PublishingImages/Roots-of-Empathy.jpg" height="147" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Last night I participated in a wonderful symposium on the relation between the arts and empathy, organized by Roots of Empathy and hosted at the <a href="http://www.batashoemuseum.ca/">Bata Shoe Museum</a>. The panel consisted of <a href="http://v1.tiff.net/festivals/thefestivalarchive/theprogrammers2014/cameron">Cameron Bailey</a> (Artistic Director, Toronto International Film Festival) and Martha Durbin (Chair, Board of Trustees for the Royal Ontario Museum), along with myself. <a href="http://www.bc.edu/schools/cas/psych/people/faculty/winner.html">Dr. Ellen Winner</a> (Boston College) was also an intended participant via Skype, but unfortunately the technology did not cooperate. Mary Ito (CBC, Roots of Empathy) did a wonderful job as moderator, guiding us through a discussion of how various forms of the arts might possibly help to foster empathy with others, particularly those who are different from ourselves and often members of vulnerable populations. So many interesting ideas got bandied about, but a few broad ideas stood out to me:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">1. How might different forms of art, such as theatre, film, historical artifacts, and even non-representational/non-figurative abstract visual art potentially provoke and challenge people to take on the experiences of others who live quite different lives from our own?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">2. Does art attract empathic people? Does it foster empathy in people who come to art? Or could both things be true simultaneously?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">3. Why do some instances of art succeed in encouraging the audience to empathize with someone quite different from him or herself, whereas other instances of art might fail to do so?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">4. How might art affect children differently from adults, with respect to the promotion or engagement of empathy?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This night was also a reminder to me of the absolutely fantastic work that Roots of Empathy does throughout the world. For those who don't know, Roots of Empathy is a program in which young schoolchildren, often those living in under-served neighbourhoods, are guided through a series of lessons centred around visits by a parent and her baby. I had the very good fortune of witnessing the program in action and I have to say it's absolutely amazing. You can read more about my take in a <a href="http://www.onfiction.ca/2014/05/roots-of-empathy.html">previous post</a>. Please consider supporting this wonderful organization in any way you can. For those interested in making a financial contribution, it is possible to do so <a href="http://www.rootsofempathy.org/donate/">here</a>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A huge thank you to the organizers for allowing me to a part of this, Mary for her deft moderating skills, and Cameron and Martha for fostering such an interesting and entertaining discussion.</div><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/9M5rjy0h4bw" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/01/the-arts-and-empathy.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-66972737911941417232017-01-18T14:53:00.002-05:002017-01-18T14:53:26.953-05:00Quick Hit: Photos of Reading<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://stevemccurry.files.wordpress.com/2015/01/ethiopia-10221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://stevemccurry.files.wordpress.com/2015/01/ethiopia-10221.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Photographer <a href="http://stevemccurry.com/">Steve McCurrry</a> (Magnum) has a beautiful new book out by <a href="http://www.phaidon.com/store/photography/steve-mccurry-on-reading-9780714871295/">Phaidon</a> of people all around the world engaged in reading. Many more examples and additional information can be found in this <a href="http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20170116-striking-photos-of-readers-around-the-world?ocid=global_culture_rss&amp;ocid=global_bbccom_email_17012017_culture">BBC article</a>.&nbsp;<!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --><br /><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/HVhMsf7ZrHk" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Raymond A. Marhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07521492403638340957noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/01/quick-hit-photos-of-reading.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5455277388900637928.post-21040470856747237772017-01-02T13:28:00.001-05:002017-01-02T13:28:54.623-05:00Writing and Inspiration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gyd_uf0Bn-I/WGqarLl6AsI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/JGpLVLBCGj4OiNzg9c44RA6vL-3j3uZ6QCLcB/s1600/Bowra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gyd_uf0Bn-I/WGqarLl6AsI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/JGpLVLBCGj4OiNzg9c44RA6vL-3j3uZ6QCLcB/s200/Bowra.jpg" width="138" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Do writers who feel themselves to be inspired enable their readers to feel the same way? This is the question that Todd Thrash and his colleagues asked in a recent paper (Thrash et al., 2016). The authors quote Maurice Bowra (1951) who wrote “inspired words create life in us because they are themselves alive” (p. 36). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thrash and his colleagues gave 195 students half an hour to write a poem on “the human condition,” and then to rate how inspired they felt when writing their poem. All the poems were scored on a series of measures by independent raters. The most important independent rating was of Insightfulness: “The degree to which the poem transcends the obvious or superficial and discerns the hidden nature of things.” All the poems were also read by 220 student readers, who rated how inspired they felt on reading each poem. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The main results of the study were that poems by writers who felt more inspired when writing elicited more inspiration from their average readers, and that the effect was moderated by the independent ratings of the poems’ Insightfulness.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What is inspiration? For the researchers the answer is indicated by the scale of nine items, which they gave their student writers. The items included, “I felt inspired while expressing my ideas,” and ‘I was inspired to revise this poem.” It may be, therefore, that what the researchers call “inspiration” is of writers having the sense that they have had a good idea to write about, with the additional sense that its wording catches something that is worthwhile, and is of a kind that can be offered to readers. It may be interesting to wonder what other ways there may be of thinking about this kind of mental state when one is writing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Bowra, M. (1951). Inspiration and poetry. New York: Cambridge University Press.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thrash, M. T., Maruskin, L., Moldovan, E. G., Olevnick, V., &amp; Belzac, W. C. (2016). Writer-reader contagion of inspiration and related states: Conditional process analyses within a cross-classified writer x reader framework. <i>Journal of Personality and Social Psychology,</i> advance online publication. </div><br />&nbsp;<!-- AddThis Button BEGIN --><br /><div><a class="addthis_button" expr:addthis:title="data:post.title" expr:addthis:url="data:post.url" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="Bookmark and Share" src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/v2/lg-share-en.gif" height="16" style="border: 0;" width="125" /></a><script src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/250/addthis_widget.js#username=xa-4b68aeaa00ae297f" type="text/javascript"></script></div><!-- AddThis Button END --><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/onfiction/~4/lC5DVku6QN8" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Keith Oatleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16419339550879570935noreply@blogger.com0http://www.onfiction.ca/2017/01/writing-and-inspiration.html